Chronology
by Flowing Tears
Summary: Darkwarrior Duck finds a way to the past. Negaduck is next on his list, but the villain knows how to put up a fight.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Chronology

Summary: Darkwarrior Duck finds a way to the past. And he comes prepared.

Genre: Angst/adventure

Disclaimer: Still down't own.

Rating and Warning: T to be safe

A/N: This is a brainfart I had a little while ago. Just a scene I had imagined when I was little and have perfected (cough) in the last few hours. I just like how we can just let our imagination go cray cray :)

000

There is nothing more satisfying then a plan coming together.

Darkwarrior allows a little smile to crawl over his beak. It ghosts over his face for only a moment before disappearing again. One of the robots that is working on the machine abruptly turns as if sensing the changing mood of its master. So far the warrior's mood has been climbing the past few hours.

Of course, with the prospect of battle in the near future, how can he not be pleased with upcoming events?

Not to mention he will get _her_ back at last.

He turns his chair back towards the large console, eyes gliding over the screen displaying so much information it could make your head spin if you didn't know what you were looking at. The white duck lets his sight linger on one of the many formulas he's managed to crack not to long ago, checking it for the millionth time to see if it could be flawed.

Without that particular stream of data there would be no possible way for him to travel through time and space.

It's finally ready.

He opens a file on the screen in which the grand lines of his plan have been jotted down. It looks like the random musings of a rambling idiot, without detail, filled with a lack of foresight and littered with more holes then Swiss Cheese. But the many intricacies from plan A to L are all laid out in the depths of his mind.

The backup plans of his backup plans have backup plans.

Just the way he likes it, as he always has liked it. He has always prized himself to have an anticipating mind. As a crimefighter his quick wits have been his greatest weapon.

They are leaving within the hour.

He glances over his shoulder to the small group of misfits standing at the ready. He glares harshly and a collective shudder of fear rolls through his minions. But just as he is about to bark an order a pair of warm hands gently wrap around his face. He turns his head to face the other duck, glare wavering.

"Darling…" The witch purrs with her usual raspy voice, a pleasant smile gracing her features. "…Why so tense?" But her smile falters when the dark stare returns tenfold. Even she knows when not to push her luck, and right now Darkwarrior is as on edge as if sitting on a blade.

His eyes soften slightly when she glides away, one hand lingering longer on his face then the other. The black haired woman smiles again when she notices the ice melt. Like it or not, she always had this effect on him.

The same effect that the other witch had on him all those years ago.

This woman may not be his Morgue, but has proven herself so many times more useful.

But even Morgana, who had proven to be quite a challenge to conquer in the past, will not be a problem. Darkwarrior will deal with her this time, just as he has before.

There will be no mercy for her if she dares cross him. There will be zero tolerance for any pushback from anyone.

Not from the Fearsome Five. Not from any of those other heroic losers. Not even from the woman who was supposedly the love of his life.

Not even…

Not even from…

…from himself.

The thought of meeting his younger self leaves a strange taste on his tongue. Darkwarrior knows who he will be dealing with. His younger self will either prove to be a complete pushover if manipulated the right way, or Darkwing Duck will prove to be the biggest threat he has ever faced.

Though he needn't worry. He and Darkwing are over two decades apart. He may have come of age, but unlike any normal duck he hasn't aged the way he should have. It may have been because of the many things he has done in the past. It may have something to do with him taking down the Macawber family. Maybe killing Morgana has cursed him, he doesn't know.

"Core is spinning sir."

Darkwarrior breaks put of his thoughts when the robot addresses him directly. He nods his acknowledgment and dismisses the machine. One quick look at his minions who have closed in on him, ready to do his bidding. He also feels the witch come back up to his other side.

Her eyes meet his and she smiles oh so pleasantly.

All of them are ready.

So is he.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Chronology

Summary: Darkwarrior Duck finds a way to the past. And he comes prepared.

Genre: Angst/adventure

Disclaimer: Still down't own.

Rating and Warning: T to be safe. Violence. More will come up if I think about it.

A/N: Aaaahw yish!

000

22:13

Quackerjack and Liquidator are having a heated discussion about which Doctor What is the best. Their conversation is loud as they debate, with no regard to the fact that they are about to rob a museum in the dead of night.

22:18

There is a power surge that rolls throughout the entire block. Some buildings are spared and others are taken down completely. Megavolt's sense of wrong and really wrong shines at this very moment because the hospital is mildly effected but the small shops and houses surrounding it go completely dark. The streets follow shortly after.

The air is teetering with electricity.

22:22

The Fearsome have been rounded up by Negaduck. The evil mastermind is barking orders and foul insults concerning the Doctor. That discussion is effectively ended right then and there. The Five have gathered in the main hall, their entry made easy because of Megavolt cutting the power and Negaduck's masterful lockpicking skills.

Quackerjack is grumbling something about explosions but that had not been the plan this time.

They disappear through the large doors to the left of the reception, all making their way to the center of the museum where the crown jewels that they are going to steal are stored.

All the while watching these… morons…. get about their business Darkwarrior had hidden himself on the second ring of the entrance hall, behind the check-in counter on the second floor. The column of pillars had been a wonderful hiding place.

One thought is spared as to why the Fearsome hadn't checked their surroundings more carefully.

Morons…

Have they always been this… disorganized? Darkwarrior releases a deep sigh, waiting for the right time to move. He checks the time.

22:32

Just in time.

The quiet shuffle of feet reaches his ears. His target is approaching, accompanied by his closest partner. 'A grand opportunity for one and all!' Liquidator rushes up the flight of stairs to the second level and passes the threat lurking in the shadows.

'Hey come on…! Wait…!' Bushroot is hot on the water dog's tail, coming to a stop at the top of the stairs. Darkwarrior rounds the pillar from the other side just as the mutant leans against it to catch his breath. The smell of nightshade softly wafts in the air and reaches the other duck, meaning that Bushroot is standing in such close proximity that Darkwarrior could just reach around the pillar and take him down now.

He decides against it.

The mutant pushes himself from the stone and continues his jog after the watery villain. Now the duck is left all alone in the dark, and that is just fine. He counts down the seconds until it is time for him to move.

Just as he predicted, the time tells him 22:34, and only then does he move.

The vigilante turned dictator sneaks down the corridor towards his destination. Although the rug is so thick it will muffle his heavy boot falls he takes no chances. He even keeps to the wall, avoiding the soaked parts.

Those morons left the door open…

Were they always this stupid?

Darkwarrior moves into a crouch as he enters the large chamber. The walls are littered with paintings and small pedestals are scattered throughout the room in an artsy way. They display all kinds of valuable trinkets and ancient crap. The vigilante crawls behind one that has the most awful vase on it.

Try as he might, pretend as he would like, he never did have a heart for modern art.

'…hang it near the roses.' Bushroot has seemingly chosen his favorite. 'What do you think?' The mutant is moving on the other side of the dictator's hiding place. The old duck rolls his eyes when the mutant stops on the other side of the display to admire the ugly vase. 'This one too!'

'Van Goose, because no home is complete without it.' Liquidator moves up to stand next to Bushroot. Water is splattered over the edge and onto Darkwarrior as the water mutant grabs the ugly but somehow priceless vase and almost carelessly lifts it from the pedestal. The dictator is on edge, wondering if they will realize he is sitting here in this crouched position. Back pressed against the display and breath short and shallow to make as little noise as possible.

There is a short silence between the villains. It's only disturbed by a barely audible sigh coming from Bushroot. The other softly inquires if he's alright, but the mutant seems hesitant to answer.

'Something is wrong…' His voice is soft and gentle. 'I don't know I…' More silence. Liquidator doesn't press his friend for answers but knows from experience the other will spill it if he's ready.

'I don't feel well…'

On the other side of the display Darkwarrior has stopped breathing. He glares into the darkness ahead of him.

Because Bushroot _knows_. The mutant may not know what is making him feel distraught, but the fact he can feel the dictator's presence is saying something.

That changes everything.

Liquidator pipes up with a happy bubble as he tries to cheer the other up.

The duo slowly begins to move away from him the display.

With a near soundless click the hidden duck unholsters his gasgun. He hasn't used it often in the last decade or so, but her cold grip feels trusted and safe. He quickly loads her up with a simple container filled with his trademark gas. He then aims it to his right, straight into the far wall, and fires.

The mutated duo falls silent mid conversation. Darkwarrior keeps one eye on them as he sneaks closer to them.

'…Hello?' Bushroot timidly asks, eyes big as he stares at the cloud of smoke. He hugs the painting to his chest and looks over to his left, where Liquidator is standing like a statue. The dog's raised shoulders lower with every second that ticks by. '…Darkwing… You alright?'

'It seems the sale has ended before it even began.'

Bushroot looks back at the cloud of smoke, which has stopped growing in size. A full ten seconds pass.

Nothing.

'I don't get… where are you going!?' The half plant takes a step after his friend but Liquidator hushes him with a wave of his arm. With careful steps the watery villain approaches the wall, stepping around one display case. His shoulders rise again as he closes in on the cloud, ready to pounce if needed.

But nothing happens.

No sporadic appearance of one vigilante.

No dramatic fluttering of a purple cape.

No 'I am the terror of the night' followed by something creative. Where Darkwing keeps pulling those puns and double entendre from is lost to the villains, but that is usually what they get.

Not today it seems.

'It seems the hero has no more fantastic entrances to display for the crowd to enjoy.' Liquidator closes in on the smoke and waves a hand through it. Water splatters on the floor and the wall. The cloud is empty. Somewhere behind the wet dog, Bushroot shuffles on his roots.

The tension is grating on his nerves. His voice is a pitch higher when he whispers. 'But why?'

'Because that would ruin the surprise.' The plant duck yelps and twists on his heels, painting dropping from his arms. All he sees is the fist flying into his line of vision and the explosion of pain in his face when it connects. Liquidator yells… something as the mutant hits the floor. He rolls on his stomach quickly even with white stars twinkling in front of his eyes.

Something drips from his beak.

Through the haze of stars the mutant is able to focus on his partner. Liquidator yells something he can't register properly. But as the dog is about to transform himself into a giant fist something flies towards him at top speed.

The orb is as large as a baseball and clear as glass. It contains a dark substance that sloshes around thickly. As it hits Liquidator the orb shatters louder then glass and the dark goo is splattered all over the villain.

Bushroot pushes himself up and turns around, eyes falling on their enemy.

He thought it was Darkwing Duck.

He _wished_ it was Darkwing Duck.

Before he can open his beak to speak a sizzling starts from where Liquidator is standing. The half plant turns back to his comrade, only to watch in horror as his best friend is boiling and melting where the strange liquid is touching him.

And Bushroot knows, on instant, that he can't save the other villain. He has seen Liquidator be frozen and boiled to the point where he would disappear in a thin mist. The wet villain would always return one way or another after enough time had passed.

But this is different.

Liquidator is moaning and bubbling and sloshing around and falling apart and _dying_. He's leaving stains on the wall and the floor. A toxic smell is filling the room slowly, it stinks of strong chemicals and ice.

His enemy, not Darkwing Duck, grabs a fistful of his purple hair and lifts the mutant with a strength that startles Bushroot more the he likes to let on. His hands shoot up to grab at the gloved hand but the iron grip is relentless. With his toes barely touching the ground Bushroot is turned around to face his nemesis.

It _is_ Darkwing Duck.

But he isn't at the same time.

'Don't worry, you'll be joining him soon.' The duck's voice is slightly deeper, raspier and more gritted, but still Bushroot knows this is Darkwing Duck.

He doesn't get the chance to say or do anything when the stronger duck takes a step to the side and slams the mutant's head face first into the nearest pedestal. The loud crack is audible throughout the large hall.

The blow would have seriously injured any lesser creature. For once in his life Bushroot is thankful for his mutation. The other grabs him by the back of his neck and lifts him off the floor again with the intention to slam the plant back into the stone.

To defend himself Bushroot grabs the little stone statue standing on display and swings with his arm. The statue connects in a clutter of dust and bits.

A chuckle, followed by the slam against the same display he had just grabbed the statue from. For a blissful moment his face goes numb right after the impact. But the pounding in his face and head returns tenfold after that. The grip on his neck tightens. Bushroot kicks out with on of his legs, hitting… something but barely doing any damage in this bewildered state.

That first punch really threw him overboard. He manages to land another kick but the laughter it earns him frightens him more when anything. It is so bizarre, he has heard Darkwing laugh hundreds of times before. But it was always a pleasant, bashful laughter, be it way too overconfident.

But it was always friendly.

This horrible sound seeps all the way into the mutant's bones. The arrogance is still there but there is nothing left of the good natured vigilante.

Bushroot is turned in the other's hold, once again with his legs kicking in the air.

'That's not how this works.' The sound of this duck's voice sends a cold shiver down the plant's spine. Bushroot is dangling from one hand. How the other has the strength to keep a struggling mutant lifted in the air like this, he doesn't know. All further thoughts and reason are blown out the window when not Darkwing raises his free hand. The dim light in the room makes it even easier to see the faint red glow in the palm of the other's hand.

Something is so wrong but it becomes impossible for the mutant to speak as the other's grip around his neck intensifies like a vice.

Small tendrils of fire are licking their way up the fingers, slowly growing in size and power. Not Darkwing is casting fire like a wizard. Like a witch. Bushroot has seen his girlfriend on one or two occasions. She can be a dangerous adversary if she wants to be, with her magic freely at her disposal.

His girlfriend may be able to cast magic, but Darkwing can't.

But this isn't _Darkwing_.

Bushroot's eyes are locked onto the growing fire in the other's hand and the rising in temperature all around them. 'That's not how any of this works.'

And Bushroot...

...just...

...screams...


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Chronology

Summary: Darkwarrior Duck finds a way to the past. Negaduck is next on his list, but the villain knows how to put up a fight.

Genre: Angst/adventure

Disclaimer: Still down't own.

Rating and Warning: T to be safe. Violence. More will come up if I think about it.

A/N: I hhope you get a thrill out of the chapter ;P

000

The vice like grip around his neck it making it hard for Bushroot to push the air out of his lungs. It is nothing more then a high pitched wheezing. No matter how hard he tries the mutant can't scream.

He needs the others to hear him. He needs the remainder of the Fearsome Five to come for him and help him and stop this horrible version of Darkwing Duck.

His face is throbbing from where he has been punched and where his skull had connected with the stone displays in the room. Blood is running over his face and neck, soaking his clothes and splattering on his opponent. There are white stars softly twinkling in his eyes and the lines of his vision have gone dark. He knows that he is hanging in one spot but the room is constantly tilting to the left.

That is the least of his problems.

The other's free hand is consumed by fire. In a swift motion he makes a grabbing move for the mutant's right ankle. The smoldering feeling cuts though his leg past his knee. His skin is more susceptible to catch fire because of his mutation. Another wheeze catches in the mutant's throat when flames begin climbing his leg. The bottom of his robe catches fire.

His enemy refuses to let go of his ankle. Bushroot whines and kicks but the grip is relentless. Pain sets his nerves on fire as flames lick up his back. The hand gripping his neck is getting hotter too, and the stench of burned wood and hair is filling the air. A few kicks with his free leg against the other duck's chest prove to be futile. The other doesn't even have the decency to look like he is being kicked.

Gasping for air is becoming harder and harder. A black smoke is filling the air, and Bushroot knows, through the agony and hysterics that it is because _he_ is burning.

With a twist he pulls his leg from the other's hold. With the fire still licking his body Bushroot pulls himself up and kicks his enemy in the face with the foot that is still being consumed.

The other snarls like an angered animal and hurls him away like a ragdoll.

In the haze Bushroot is suddenly flying. For a blissful moment his vision clears as he is thrown out of the cloud of smoke and ocean of fire that the horrible copy of Darkwing is standing in like some kind of terrible demon spit out of the depths of Hell.

The impact on the floor is a tankful distraction from the flames and the smoke coming from his body. Bushroot throws down a stop, drop and roll and uses the momentum of the throw to roll over a couple of times. The wall however proves to be relentless and stops him with a painful impact. In a panic the mutant tries to pat down the flames licking up his hip.

Fire consumes him. The pain drives him mad and the hysterics make the world shrink down around him until there is no museum. There is no Fearsome. His best friend wasn't just killed by a madman. And that same madman isn't standing in the same room as he. There is just the fire destroying his body and sucking the air that he needs to breathe.

He can't even screech his lungs out, as much as he wants.

There is fire everywhere.

He twitches upwards and slams his body against the wall in his hysteria.

The mutant kicks with his legs, unaware of the figure closing the distance between them.

It burns.

It burns!

God it burns!

He can't breathe. The mutant kicks again, dragging himself along the wall as if to escape the flames.

His vision is alight thanks to the fire. But the edges are darkening slowly because of the lack of oxygen.

It burns…

All of a sudden the agony ends when his whole world turns white. The flames rapidly die out and his body is suddenly cooled by some kind of white substance.

Bushroot keeps kicking with his legs and turns his head away when the white stuff hits him in the face. It feels soothing, although the burn remains. The throbbing is severe but the immediate threat seems to subside.

Another wave of white stuff is smeared over his body and the last of the flames die out. Bushroot is left gasping on the floor, eyes cast downward as he tries to collect his bearings. In the back of his mind he remembers the horrible threat lurking in the darkness, but somehow he feels a lot safer.

Because he knows he's not alone.

He's figured out someone has put out the fire.

Someone _sensible_ has grabbed a fire extinguisher and has emptied its contents all over him to kill the flames.

And as much as he loves his friends, both Quackerjack and Megavolt lack the necessary connections to figure out that if they see someone on fire, they need to grab an extinguisher and put that fire out.

Bushroot is heaving for air, lowering his forehead on the floor and relaxing his body as much as the pain allows him to.

A cool hand is placed on the back of his head with a gentleness that Bushroot wasn't sure the other was capable of. The mutant feels hot tears pour over his face and rolls over, back to the wall, pulling his knees up slightly. His eyes roll over a pair of webbed feet and he has never been happier then right now to have this person so close to him. Barely controlled anger is rolling off the other in waves, ready to explode.

Because no one…

… _no one!_

Touches the Fearsome Four without having the hammer of God rain judgment down on them.

The hand is lifted from his head.

'Bushy!' Quackerjack appears in his line of vision. The jester has thrown himself on the floor and is now lying in between the two legs, eyes wide and pupils dilated with shock. Normally the owner of the webbed feet would make his displeasure notable by kicking the daylight out of Quackerjack, but now they just step out of the mutant's face.

Another presence closes in and another hand is placed on the mutant's undamaged shoulder. Megavolt kneels into the floor, avoiding both Quackerjack and Bushroot. His face is twisted in disgust and he looks ready to hurl his late night snack back up.

'Get him out of here.' Negaduck takes another step away from his minions huddling on the floor and turns back towards the sea of flames. The fire is spreading slowly, having consumed a few of the ornaments and slowly crawling towards the opposite wall of the room. Megavolt has disabled the power to the museum, but the sprinkler system should work.

Which means that whoever did this to Bushroot was prepared.

The mastermind throws the empty extinguisher away and reaches for a small medkit kept in an inside pocket. 'Move!' He barks and Megavolt is out of the way before the word is finished. Quackerjack remains on the floor, whispering at his friend and simply beyond intimidation at this point.

'Find a safe place to hide. Do not go to one of your old hideouts, find a new one. Get a few jars of honey and put that on the burns. Too much time has already passed so putting him in cold water wont help anymore. Wait for me there until I call you.' The syringe, filled with a strong sedative, disappears in the mutant's neck. Negaduck empties its contents to the point where he knows his minion will not be waking for a good twelve hours.

Bushroot whimpers softly, eyes and face still leaking. His breathing slowly evens out as he falls into a deep slumber.

'What about you?' Megavolt is standing with his back turned towards the trio, overlooking the room should anyone try to ambush them. It seems that whoever set the mutant on fire has either already fled the scene, or they are hiding.

'I said get him out of here!' Negaduck hisses between clenched jaws, feeling his temper slip with every second that ticks by.

Megavolt nearly jumps out of his skin and throws his arms up in self defense.

'Come on Megsy! Put your back into it!' Quackerjack, with a sudden display of core strength, takes a hold of their unconscious friend and lifts him, be it in a somewhat awkward manner. He tries to avoid the wounds as much as possible. 'Help me!'

'Alright, hold on to your bells.' Megavolt moves in to grab Bushroot's legs. It takes a little practice but soon enough their movement is perfectly choreographed.

Negaduck is hot on their trail as they make it for another exit. The one they had entered through has been claimed by the fire. Smoke is starting to spread rapidly, completely hiding the high ceiling. It will only be a matter of time the authorities are alarmed. Even without any signal of a fire, the smoke and growing light should alert someone soon. The first of the flames have found the ceiling via the drapes.

'I know the perfect place. It's only a few blocks away…' Megavolt mutters, expertly lowering the handle of the door with a free elbow and opening it by pressing his backside against the wood.

The breath of fresh air is more then welcome.

And Negaduck would have loved to follow them out.

Quackerjack notices his hesitation and looks over his shoulder. 'What's keeping… you…?' His eyes travel over the duck's shoulder, his whole frame locking up when he spots just _what_ it is that caused this destruction and agony. Negaduck has drawn one of his guns from his robes and aims, ready to fire.

He too can see someone standing amidst the flames, a hulking figure untouched by the raging sea around him. The red eyes shine brighter then the light of the fire ever hopes to achieve.

'I got this.' He promises through clenched jaws, pulling his other gun and aiming it at the unwanted excuse for a Darkwing Duck. His minions disappear through the door. It falls into lock almost immediately.

Good. Put them together and Megavolt and Quackerjack make up for almost one fully functioning brain.

'You look ridiculous.' He snarls, trying to sound as pissed off as possible.

Trying to keep the tremble from his voice.

Trying not to show that he _knows_ something is terribly wrong.

One of the wooden beams keeping the ceiling aloft breaks under its own weight. It comes down with a terrible noise, landing in between Negaduck and…

…who is this, if not Darkwing?

The villain takes the opportunity and makes a dash for the only available exit. He clears half the distance in record time but has to duck and roll for cover when the other fires a gun at him. The display case proves to be great cover, but after five more bullets are planted into it the wood begins to crumble and Negaduck is forced to move.

Three seconds have passed in total from the moment he ducked for cover till the moment he got ready to move again.

He readies one gun and takes a deep breath to ground himself. A jolt of adrenaline rushes through his veins when he jumps to his feet and turns, ready to fire at anything hostile. His heart skips a beat when he sees how close the other duck had gotten to him in a matter of seconds. He forces the other duck to dive forward when he fires the gun, but that helps the other only close more distance.

Acting on instinct Negaduck grabs the item on the display, not giving it a second glance. The material is hard and heavy, and that is all he cares about as he slams it against the head of the other duck as he jumps to his feet again. It explodes into a thousand little bits with a harsh sound.

And royally pisses the fake Darkwing off more then anything.

He took the full impact of the stone object and still stands with his feet planted firmly on the ground. Blood drips from a cut on the side of his head, little droplets rolling down his beak and staining his white feathers.

But he still _stands_.

The glare thrown his way roots the villain to the ground. His heart slams in his chest in anticipation.

This _is_ Darkwing, and he _isn't_.

It's not a new, stupid, although very intimidating costume. The duck before him is physically bigger then the real deal. Stronger too, if he has managed to take down Bushroot and Liquidator in under ten minutes.

Negaduck's eye twitches when he thinks of his minions.

No one…

No one! Touches _his_ minions.

The fear that has been hammering in his chest is overruled by the sudden wave of fury that the villainous mastermind is oh so famous for. 'You still look ridiculous!' The gun in his hand fires with a deafening roar.

Negaduck doesn't miss. Not with such close proximity.

His left eye twitches again as he stares in horror, heart skipping a beat, at the bullet he just fired floating in the air between them.

It just stopped.

Not Darkwing stands with an arm raised as if to defend himself. A smile forms on his beak, showing rows of sharp teeth.

'You have to do better then that...' The larger duck lowers the arm, and with it the bullet drops with a soft plop on the floor. '…punk!'

The villain snarls and fires again, thrice, knowing full well the other will defend himself. His adversary takes a step back as he does so, once again catching the three bullets in midair and _how_ though!? The gun is switched to his left hand and Negaduck moves forward, slamming the butt of the gun against the other's face with as much force as he can muster.

His anger takes over and caution is thrown out the wind as the villain moves forward, trying to get another hit in. The other duck bleeds from the impact but refuses to make any sound of pain. Instead, the red eyes light up in anger and the larger duck takes a step to the side to dodge the second attack.

Negaduck draws his other gun, twisting on his feet and slamming the end into the other's shoulder. He fires without thinking, feeling the recoil slam into his own shoulder.

The phony's armor is too thick.

And Negaduck isn't quick enough to dodge the fist flying his way. He is slammed backwards against the wall, the back of his head hitting the stone with a harsh thud. Before he can fall to the side not Darkwing grabs him by the collar, lifting him in the air with just one arm.

Like he had done with Bushroot.

But the villain won't go down as easy as that mutated wimp.

He throws a kick to the other's side of the head, hitting the same spot he slammed the stone statue against earlier. The spot is sore enough because the larger duck releases him with a snarl and a curse.

Pushing himself up again and away from the wall the yellow clad duck tackles the other, sending them both flying against the ground. The fire is still raging on and licking its way up towards them.

It's Negaduck's turn to punch the other. The first crack is satisfying and fuels his rage. The second, to the other side of his opponent's face is even better. Blood splatters on the floor, once again courtesy to those injuries he caused before.

The third punch his tries to throw in caught in a vice like grip. The other fist follows in short order. Before the villain can react the other pulls both arms wide, pulling the smaller duck down and slamming their heads together. Negaduck wasn't prepared and the impact has him reeling backwards. A swift kick to his side follows and sends him flying a good distance.

His opponent closes the distance with lightning speed that puts Megavolt to shame.

A sturdy display case stops Negaduck's momentum. The slam knocks the air out of his lungs. Coughing, he climbs to his feet, the disorientation almost making him fall again.

It's the fist connecting with his face that throws him all the way to the ground instead. Strong hands wrap around the back of his neck and lift him like he were a feather. He feels the skin on the side of his head, just above his right eye burst open at the impact as fake Darkwing slams his face into the display, _twice_ , just for good measure.

The blood that streams freely crawls into his eye, rendering it blind.

'Is this all you got?' The other duck sounds so much like Darkwing it's almost mesmerizing. There is a gritty undertone to his voice, the words are pushed through a snarling beak and Negaduck knows that the hoarse sound comes from vocal cords damaged by screams and agony.

Something has gone wrong somewhere, turning the vigilante into some kind of psychopath.

He groans something, the words wet from the blood dripping all over his face. It catches the other's curiosity because instead of slamming him face first into the floor the larger duck lifts him higher.

The butt of his gun connecting with what have you is the opening the villain needs to escape.

Hate it as much as he wants, this psycho took down his two, though this is questionable, strongest minions. On his own.

With fire and his bare hands.

Negaduck is off towards the exit before the other can make a move for him, barely dodging a grab for his cape.

The heavy door slams behind him. A moment of peace follows, but he knows it will be short lived. The villain turns away and makes a run for it without a pause. He dashes down the corridor and around a corner just as the heavy door opens with a lot of violence. The wood splinters and breaks off the hinges and a downpour of bullets follows the yellow clad duck just as he cuts the edge of the wall.

Pain shoots through his left leg as a bullet grazes his skin. Not enough to cause serious damage, but enough to hurt.

And he is off.

With that demon hot on his tail.

The villain makes a quick left through another corridor, slams himself through a door without bothering to close it and down another hallway. He knows the insides of the museum, has studied the floorplans over and over should a crisis erupt.

And a crisis it is.

No, calling it a crisis would be putting it lightly.

He's fighting a Darkwing he can't handle even if he had the Fearsome Four at his disposal. This asshole has a plan, came prepared and knew he had to take out Liquidator and Bushroot first.

He knew where they would be, what they were doing and when the two mutants had been on their own where he could ambush them.

The door slams out of the way and Negaduck runs up a flight of stairs, making his way towards the other side of the building.

This fake Darkwing knows everything he needs to know. It could very well be that if Negaduck goes for any of the obvious exits he will run into a trap.

That is why he finds himself slamming the door to the museum's kitchen behind him. His heart is drumming in his chest and his face just wont stop bleeding. The warm liquid keeps dripping into his right eyes, forcing him to keep it closed. Unable to take a moment to catch his breath he moves for the large cabinet filled with ornamental plates dedicated to special events. It just so happens to be situated just a foot next to the door he just pushed through.

The stash of cleaning supplies that had been stashed next to the cupboard is ripped from their spot and thrown on the floor without a second thought. With his back against the closet and his feet planted against the large fridge on the other side the villain pushes against the cupboard. It topples over with an onslaught of noise, effectively blocking the door.

Or… that's what he hopes.

The idea is shattered to pieces when something very powerful slams against the other side. Negaduck bristles, spittle and blood dripping from his face. Another slam, even harder then the first one connects with the other side of the door. He feels the life drain out of his face.

Spitting a wad of gunk to the side the villain pushes himself into motion as another slam splinters the wooden door.

With deft hands he grabs the nearest kitchen utensil he can find.

It comes in the shape of a very fancy, very overpriced, very _heavy_ coffee machine. He rips it loose from the wall and uses its weight to gain enough momentum to hurl it out the nearest window.

Another wood splintering crash against the door.

Negaduck makes a decision there.

The door splinters under the brute force, the cabinet is slammed backwards against the cooking island in the middle of the room, and the onslaught of noise is deafening.

The silence that follows is sucking the air out of the kitchen.

Darkwarrior is breathing erratically. The thrill of the chase has his feathers on edge. With a deep breath he calms down and the quiet completely falls.

His eyes immediately fall on the shattered window.

He had forgotten how quick Negaduck could think. How unbelievably crafty the villain was.

How much fun the chase had been last time and how satisfying it had been to end it.

His heavy boots crush splinters of wood and glass. A cold breeze waves through the open window, cooling his heated frame just ever so slightly. 'Clever bastard.' He murmurs, reaching the broken window and stopping just to look through.

No sign of the villain.

The vigilante reaches for the thick cloth that is dangling from one of the large glass splinters. The red and black cape has been torn clean off. His red eyes follow his fingers as he brushes them over it, caressing it and recollecting memories.

'I didn't give you the credit you deserve.' He turns then, dropping the cape on the ground. 'Seeing how _easy_ your minions melt and burn and all.' A grin forms on his beak and he chuckles, a deep, evil sound that puts Negaduck to shame. 'I will kill you eventually.' The promise is followed by soft laughter. He moves back towards the large island in the middle of the kitchen.

Gloved fingers ghost over a knife stand. He picks out the biggest, sharpest knife out of the batch.

He begins to round the island, keeping his footfalls as quiet as possible.

On the other side, Negaduck does the same.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Chronology

Summary: Darkwarrior Duck finds a way to the past. And he comes prepared.

Genre: Angst/Adventure

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

Rating and Warning: T to be safe. Violence. More will come up if I think about it.

A/N: I made a few small changes in the last few chapters. Just so that it would fit a bit more in the storyline. I have been working on a story of my own, that is why this had taken a backseat to that. But I really felt like writing for Darkwing Duck again. I hope you will enjoy it.

000

He knew something wrong was in the air when Negaduck had closed in on the burning frame of Bushroot. As he put down the flames and his two other minions had stood over the injured mutant, he had felt the presence radiating off the other in ice cold waves. He could not see the fake Darkwing at the time but he knew he was still there.

Contemplating on who's neck he would break first.

If the villainous mastermind hadn't send Megavolt and Quackerjack off they would have been caught in the middle. Their opponent would have chosen the most viable target to take down first. Negaduck has a dollar or two on Quackerjack. Simply because the jester is the most unpredictable of them all.

Negaduck doesn't know Megavolt knows who they are dealing with, but there had been something fearful in Quackerjack's eyes when he looked at the duck in the fire.

The toymaker had been afraid of this faker.

And as they fought in such close quarters Negaduck had felt the constriction in his chest. Had felt the overpowering aura of the old Darkwing Double.

Had felt so immensely insignificant. So overshadowed. So puny.

This version of Darkwing can slam his hand into the villain's chest and tear his heart out and the larger duck will not even twist a feather over it.

There is blood on this psycho's hands.

Just like Negaduck has blood on his, but the villain has killed more out of necessity. He has an empire to run, and with that come casualties. Negaduck has hurt people. He has tortured his enemies and build a name for himself. All of this evil that he has done was because he needed to do it. Over the years it became easy to hurt others and yes, he took pleasure in harming his worst enemies.

But it was all born out of necessity.

That overpowered psychopath has tortured and killed and bathed in the blood of his enemies because he can.

The stench of dread that hangs in his feathers is stuck like a bad perfume. He reeks of danger and death. No amount of soap or cologne can mask the reeking smell.

'Clever bastard.' The glass screeches under the heavy boots. Not Darkwing comes to a halt at the window.

The pressure in the room rises under the suffocating presence of the twisted duck.

Negaduck rolls his head back against the cool metal of the cooking island. The hot blood dripping from his right eye rolls down his neck. He swallows the thick lump and tries to keep his breath soft and even.

'I didn't give you the credit you deserve.' A soft sound of ripping cloth and falling glass shards fills the air as the cape is retrieved from the shattered window. The phony is quiet for a moment and is slowly turning on his feet. He chuckles darkly and a shiver rolls down Negaduck's spine. 'Seeing how easy your minions melt and burn and all.' Bastard. 'I will kill you eventually.' The promise is followed by soft laughter. Fake Darkwing moves back towards the large island in the middle of the kitchen.

Negaduck follows the other's sounds.

There is a moment's hesitation and then the faker moves again, taking a few resolute steps towards the edge of the island. The villain moves and crawls on all fours to round another corner, keeping the large block in between them.

Another corner is rounded and then the psycho halts.

Negaduck feels his heart slam in his throat. His eyes go wide as he stares up into nothing. For as long as the other remains motionless, that long does the villain hold his breath.

When the other moves again, boots falling on broken wood and glass splinters does the villain breathe again.

The other duck moves towards the opening he had slammed through only moments before. There is a skip in his walking when he climbs on top of the broken down door and another heavy sound when he moves off.

Negaduck remains seated, eyes wide open but staring up into nothing. His chest rises and falls evenly, deeply and slowly. A cramp is starting in his legs and his back is becoming a little sore from where he is pushing himself against the counter. His face is throbbing softly. It is very difficult to listen to the noises around him through the beating of the blood in his ears. Moments pass and he remains seated like this.

A piece of glass breaks from the destroyed window. The sound sucks the strength from his whole body.

Nothing happens.

Absolutely nothing happens.

After a deep breath to steel himself Negaduck moves on all fours towards the edge and peeks around the corner. The sense of dread lingers in the air, heavy like a wool blanket. Droplets of blood drip down his beak and fall on the floor. Their splat splat is barely audible but in this silence those noises are like little explosions that echo throughout the ravaged kitchen.

Quietly the villain crawls back towards the other side of the island to check the room from that side. He swallows a rock stuck in his throat.

Why is it still so hard to breathe the air? The phony has left and should have dragged that omnipotent air with him.

With a quiet sigh the mastermind sits back against the counter top and blinks the dust from his dry eyes.

Why it is so hard to breathe? It doesn't feel like any of his ribs are bruised or broken.

Why the air is still as heavy as it was in the other duck's demanding presence? Negaduck feels the heat drain from his face and his breath hitches. He couldn't see the faker on from the left.

Couldn't see him from the right.

But the air…

And then it clicks…

The villain's eyes snap up towards the ceiling, instantly locking with the angry pools of red and a beak pulled back in a threatening grin. Instinct kicks in and Negaduck is rolling out of the way before a knife is planted into the tiled floor where he just sat. The villain dodges a grab thrown his way and jumps to his feet. But before he can find his footing the other duck slams him back to the ground with enough force to knock the air from his lungs.

A deathly silence falls between them.

Fake Darkwing is pinning the villain with his weight, one hand clutching the front of the other's jacket, the other pulled back with a large hunting knife raised and ready to bring down. Those bloody red eyes light up in alarm and the older duck holds his breath.

Beneath him Negaduck has both arms raised above his head, a very weird position for someone who needs to defend themselves, were it not for the grenade he holds in one hand, and the pin pulled free in the other. Two of the mastermind's fingers are pushing against the lever, which keeps it from exploding.

The larger duck stiffens when Negaduck raises one of his fingers from the lever to demonstrate just how serious he is. A grin appears on the villain's beak.

Slowly releasing the breath that he was holding, the faker lowers his raised arm and moves it to the side. His movement is careful, nothing sudden as he holds the knife a safe distance away before dropping it in surrender.

It clatters with so much noise that it sends an involuntary shudder down Negaduck's spine.

As the hand gripping his clothes relaxes, so does some of the tension leave the smaller duck himself. He lowers his arms ever so slightly to take the strain from his shoulders. The fake Darkwing sits back and one thought Negaduck has is about just how heavy the psychopath really is. He may be wearing a ton of body armor, his physical weight adds a lot.

He must be in great physical shape if this guy can even wear all of that nonsense and still move as swiftly and as fluent as he does. As quiet as a thief and as nimble as a feline.

'Now... Phony...' Negaduck hisses and the red eyes light up for a second. 'Get off me.' A second of hesitation ripples through the older duck. Not because he refuses to comply, but because he makes an effort not to startle the villain with any sudden movements. Slowly, oh so slowly the hand still griping the collar of Negaduck's clothes pulls away. The large duck sits back a little more, heavy weight shifting from Negaduck's hips. More hesitation as both hands are raised slightly.

The villain prides himself on how good his reaction time is.

But he blinks his good eye once and pain explodes in the hand holding the grenade. All color drains from his face. The other's face had been set in caution at first but now his beak pulls back into a grin so vile Negaduck feels himself go cold. The other hand has taken hold of his throat, pressing down but not with as much force as the older duck is capable off.

Negaduck begins to struggle, free hand gripping the one around his throat, rolling his hips to try and topple the other. Nothing works as he kicks the floor. His eye quickly darts to the offending claw holding onto his hand that is gripping the grenade. Strong fingers curl over the threatening appendage with a force that makes the bones in the villain's hand grind together.

Now, there is no way for Negaduck to release the pin that will set it off.

The faker's grin becomes a smile and the years seem to drop from the other's masked face. His shoulders jerk when he chortles a laugh and for a few long seconds the villain can see the real Darkwing Duck hovering above him. 'I'll be honest. I missed this...' The older mallard chuckles, and then the years and lunacy add up again and return full throttle.

Utter panic rushes through Negaduck's frame when the hand around his throat begins to heat up. At first it can almost be considered a pleasant warmth. Something that soothes the duck on the floor as the unforgiving cold of the tiles seeps through his clothes and feathers.

But then, in the length of a breath the heat of the hand starts to hurt. And it will be mere seconds before it will reach temperatures hot enough to burn. The villain moves on instinct, free hand shooting out to his side and fingers curling around something solid. With a swing he slams the pan into the larger duck's head, sending him reeling to the side with an audible clang.

Fake Darkwing snarls a curse before rolling to his feet, eyes lighting up in surprise when the grenade rolls to a stop next to his left boot.

Negaduck hurls himself out the already shattered window. The explosion follows the moment he hits the concrete two stories down. He catches himself on the impact and rolls with the momentum, expertly jumping to his feet without so much as a scratch on him.

He sets off in a sprint, rounding the building and ignoring another explosion that follows. Sirens are wailing and the darkness is being illuminated by red and blue blinking lights. Smoke is rising from the museum in a thick, black cloud.

A single thought is spent on Liquidator.

Wondering is the dog will return or not. Busting him out of concrete? Not a problem. Mopping him up from the floor? Not a problem. Waiting for him to return after a rainstorm? Not a fucking problem.

Liquidator has been taken out in many ways, and he's always found a way back.

Negaduck hopes his wet minion will find his way home one more time.

The villain twists into a small alcove, eyes trained to adjust to the darkness. He nearly throws himself into the saddle of his bike and kicks it alive. With squealing tires and a roaring engine he speeds off, turning into the direction from which he came towards the closest exit.

Within moments he reaches top speed and it will only be seconds before the villain will burst through the open gates and into freedom and safety.

His moment of comfort is short-lived when he takes a final look over his shoulder and his eyes instantly fall on the canopy of the entrance. Everything there is dark, even more so with the smoke pouring out of the open entrance.

In that smoke and in that darkness two pinpricks of bright red follow the mastermind as he races off on his bike.

Negaduck can make his escape because the fake Darkwing _allows_ it.

Police officers scream in surprise and jump out of his way as Negaduck bursts through the museum's gates. They all go ignored by the yellow clad duck.

Liquidator crosses the villain's mind once more but he pushes that aside. There is very little he can do for his watery minion now. The others will need his assistance and guidance. He can only hope they found a new safe spot and were able to see to Bushroot's wounds. The mutant may be a wimp, and is probably the worst fighter of their team, but he is made out of the toughest material right after Liquidator.

Either the fire damaged him much less then it would a normal person, or Bushroot will not survive his wounds, period.

But that doesn't change the fact that there is a psychotic Darkwing Double on the loose. One that is much older then Darkwing Prime, but also a lot more experienced in everything Negaduck and his goody two-shoes counterpart combined.

Not only is he out for blood, he has successfully crippled the Fearsome Five in under an hour.

That asshole specifically targeted the two strongest members of the team because he knew they were the biggest threat under Negaduck's command.

'Goddamnit!' The villain screams over the cries of his bike and makes a sharp left.

He doesn't scream because of Liquidator, or Bushroot, or any of his minions. He doesn't scream because he just got his feathers handed to him by someone who is physically and mentally superior to him in every way possible. He doesn't scream because he had just looked death in the face and escaped because he got lucky.

He screams because there is only one thing he can do right now, and he hates it.

He needs Darkwing Duck's help.

And merely thinking that makes him want to vomit.

But where will he go?

On the off chance that the vigilante is not patrolling the city, there is a plethora of places he can be. Audubon Bay bridge is the first one that crosses his mind, swiftly followed by the house on Avian Way. He could be at S. H. U. S. H. headquarters, plotting new ways with their director to capture any one villain. It could also be a possibility that the hero is entertaining his girlfriend, be it at her house or a random romantic location in the city.

Negaduck forces further thoughts about Morgana back into the deepest parts of his brain, refusing to be distracted.

Darkwing could be...

...at the museum, investigating the rampage that has Negaduck's explosive signature all over it.

By the fifth ring of Hell he is not going back there.

The villain turns into another street, cutting off an ambulance and two police cars headed into the direction he came from.

If anything Negaduck will create as much distance between himself and that place as possible.

Another sharp turn, ignoring red lights as he goes the yellow clad duck speeds towards a busier part of the city. If that fake lunatic tries to follow him Negaduck will at least have a shield of civilians protecting him.

Because be it as it may, that faker has the same base principals as Darkwing Duck.

Normal people, good people, are off limits. Not even the villain himself will resort to absolute mindless violence towards people if it doesn't serve him in any way, shape or form.

That old fart wouldn't dare attack the villain full force in a sea of civilians.

...he won't...

...right?

The brakes scream as Negaduck slams them down, coming to a screeching halt right in the middle of an intersection, just as he had hit another red light. A car comes to a full stop to his right, and a truck has to hit the brakes on his left. More vehicles come to a stop, and miraculously no one hits anyone.

'Hey you moron! Get off the fff...' the dog hanging out of the truck's window stops mid sentence when he sees who it is that just cut him off. More people are complaining, horns are honking, but Negaduck fails to register them. A few brave people leave their cars to see what the fuss is all about. They begin to crowd around a distraught and bleeding Negaduck, pointing and whispering that something bad has happened. Some have the common sense to back away slowly or run for their lives.

Negaduck shudders. He's getting cold, he's losing blood one droplet at a time from the cut on his head, and he's simply exhausted. His body is sore in more places than he can name and he really needs a drink.

He makes a decision, then and there and moves. His bike roars above the sudden screams of the people around him as he tears off, twisting the bike to the right. People throw themselves between cars and scramble over each other as he moves into their direction.

He needs Darkwing's help, now, but the options of the vigilante's whereabouts are endless.

However, tonight is a school night.

Negaduck doesn't need to search for his identical twin, the other duck will come to him. And Darkwing will help Negaduck with this psychotic predicament, willingly, or under force.

The villain only needs _her_ as leverage.


End file.
